Prelude To a Nightmare
by Lacey
Summary: Operation Impending Doom 1 has begun, and Zim is on the rampage! It's up to the Tallests to stop him. (Red/Purple slash) Chapter 2 now up!
1. 1

**Author's Note:** Invader Zim is the property of Jhonen Vasquez and Nickelodeon. This ficcy is a sequel to "A Tale of Two Tallest." And a really big thank you goes out to Apricot the Gerbil for giving this fic a name! For the longest time I was calling it Currently Untitled. And even more thanks go out to all the folks who've been beta-reading this sucker. You all rock! 

I've mentioned this before, but here it is again. I've set up a board for all IZ fic authors in an effort to cut down on non-fics here on ff.n. Everyone is welcome. ^_^ Tis at http://pub96.ezboard.com/bzimfics 

**Warning: **This is a Red/Purple **slash** fic! Rated **R** for violence, language, and ummm... Irken nudity. 

**Prelude to a Nightmare**

Dark lids lowered over lavender eyes. The Almighty Tallest Purple pulled a coverlet stuffed with feathers of creatures found only on the planet Goosia Downis up to his neck. Purple lived for these quiet moments; no rushing about, no politics - just himself, the velvet darkness, and a cozy bed with a warm body to lean into. Fingers brushed against Purple's supple chest and he grabbed onto that wandering hand. "Oh, Ptor," came a sulky voice from right behind Purple's head. 

The barest whisper of a smile touched Purple's face at the sound of the half-forgotten name. "Ptor doesn't exist any longer, Red," he reminded his partner. And, indeed, in a very real sense, Ptor did no longer exist, for that identity had to be given up when he assumed the mantle of Almighty Tallest. Purple rolled over to stare into Red's penetrating crimson eyes. Even in the dimness, those eyes stood out, bright and amused; twin pools of fire Purple could drown himself in. 

Red reached out and ran a finger along one of Purple's antenna. The intimacy of the gesture sent a shiver down Purple's spine. "You're cold, Purple," Red murmured, drawing the other closer. There it was again. Touch. Before he'd become the Tallest, Purple had rarely known of touch. Now the feel of warm silken skin against skin was a pleasure he drunk in nightly like a fine wine. 

Purple's relationship with Red dwelled in the realm of unique. Once upon a time they'd wanted each other dead. Now, though, if Purple thought about it, he might almost say he loved Red. Certainly he found comfort and companionship in his other half, but there was something more in their relationship - a need he had not yet placed a name to. 

A buzz sounded from the communication system, startling both of the Tallest and destroying the mood. The palace Drones had orders not to disturb the Tallest at night. Heads would roll for this indiscretion, Purple decided as he flipped the switch that turned the intercom on. "What is it?" His voice was a guttural bark. 

"I'm sorry to disturb you, my Tallest," came the quavering response. Purple bared his teeth in a grim smile. The little Drone had better be afraid. The voice continued, "But-" An explosion sounded in the background and the connection was lost to a sea of static. 

"What in the name of the Holy Green Monkey just happened?" Red didn't shriek. He controlled his fear well, but Purple could feel his partner trembling against his bare chest. Neither had to guess, though. The answer was as obvious as the antennae on their heads. In the distance, deep rumblings could be heard. Sirens began wailing their piercing warning. Purple's squeedily spooch sank all the way down to his knees. Irk was under attack! 

Tossing aside the covers, Red and Purple were out of bed in an instant. They had no time to lose! Dashing down the halls while buckling their armored robes into place, a sight which caused various Drones to look twice, Red and Purple made their way to what they'd unofficially dubbed the War Room. A large table dominated the center of the room, surrounded by chairs and hovering vid-screens. From the walls, great leaders of Irk's past glowered down in solemn disapproval from their portraits. "Red, take crowd control!" Purple called as he flipped on the tabletop holo-computer. Red nodded and latched onto one of the floating vid-screens, dragging it to a corner where he would be out of Purple's way. 

As Purple began dialing up various military officials, he listened in on Red's soothing address. "My people," Red began, falling into a confident and calm posture, which would translate well over the emergency broadcast system. "We, your Tallest, are taking steps to deal with the situation at hand. We ask that you do not panic..." 

Though he would have loved to continue listening to Red, for the other Tallest's words were soothing even his panic, Purple turned his attention to his own task. The terror-stricken faces of various commanders in the Irken armies met Purple's intense gaze. "Status report!" Purple demanded. 

A squat, green-eyed lieutenant snapped to attention. "Sir! A giant mech unit is rampaging... One of our's!" Purple's antennae pressed forward in alarm. A saboteur? Behind the safety of the screen, the lieutenant cringed. "Sir!" he continued reluctantly. "We believe that an Invader is getting an early start with Operation Impending Doom. This particular mech is issued to an Invader Zim." 

In a screen to Purple's left, a different Irken, one with a wonderfully tall head, piped up to give the lieutenant a break. "Sir!" he said, flashing a disk before the screen. "I'm sending you the information we have on Invader Zim now!" Purple nodded, and with quick two-fingered typing, brought up the transmitted file. 

_'Ah, yes,'_ Purple mused as he skimmed through the file. He recalled which Invader was Zim from the Great Assigning. Purple had wondered about giving such a short Invader such a crucial role in Operation Impending Doom, but Zim's testing results had been in the top three percentile of all the training groups - ranking particularly high in loyalty. 

Red, meanwhile, finishing up his broadcast and setting it on a loop, crossed the room to the holo-computer and brought up a visual on the emergency outside. Static crackled through the image, but still the Tallest could make out the twisted bodies of glass and metal that had once been buildings. Purple spent a long moment staring in utter awe at the destruction before turning his attention back to the file on Zim. "Find me an engineer," he commanded. "One that knows a weakness in that damned robot!" 

*~*~*~*~* 

The power! The power! Never before had Zim known anything like it! That the diminutive Irken had been given a role in Operation Impending Doom at all was nothing short of amazing. Being placed in control of a mech unit was beyond his wildest dreams. Even the pounding that was starting up in the back of his head as the celebration drinks began taking their toll couldn't diminish Zim's joy. 

Drunk on euphoria, Zim issued orders to the Drones serving under him. Yes, the Tallest were wise to choose Zim for this assignment. He would rain doom down upon the enemies of the Irken Empire! "But sir!" one of the Drones exclaimed. "We're still-" 

"Silence!" Zim shouted, using sheer volume to drown out the Drone's protest. How dare these lowly Drones try to question him. He was an Invader, no matter how small, and as such he was superior to any Drones. He commanded, they obeyed - that was the natural order on Irk. "You! Twist those knobs! Twist those knobs!" The poor singled-out Drone did as commanded, albeit with much reluctance. 

Wild laughter erupted from Zim. Yes! Starting his part of Operation Impending Doom early had been a stroke of brilliance. The Tallest would surely reward him for his initiative. Spotting a Drone starting to slack off, Zim pointed an accusing finger. "You! Pull some levers! Pull some levers!" That the Drones did not respond with proper alacrity, Zim decided, would be noticed when he made his final report. 

*~*~*~*~* 

Red and Purple stared out the palace windows in complete dumbfounded silence. The mech's path of destruction had at last taken it to where they could establish visual contact. They'd not, however, been able to reach the mech's diminutive driver as he was apparently maintaining radio silence. 

The two Tallest had accomplished much in a short time, but nothing that yielded satisfactory results. A damage control squad had been scrambled to try and stop the situation from deteriorating further. Citizens were being teleported to ships waiting in Irk's upper atmosphere. Irken medical staffs weeded through the wounded, seeking those who needed immediate attention first. 

Nothing yet could be done about the rampaging mech, though. Its designer had assured his Tallest that the machine was quite impregnable, made to tackle any conceivable off-planet obstacle. Red looked helplessly down at the reports establishing Zim's last known location, a bar where the young Invader had been celebrating his assignment in Operation Impending Doom. Most likely, the Invader's judgment was warped with drink and euphoria. His initiative had to be applauded, though. If only he wasn't attacking his home planet... 

Crashes and shouts erupted in the hallway. Red straightened, smiling grimly. At last! In the midst of the chaos an enemy was coming that he could fight. The last thing he expected was a Drone to come barreling into the room with a contingent of guards hot on his heels. "My Tallest! My Tallest!" The small creature dropped to the floor, trembling in the awe-inspiring presence of his leaders. 

Red and Purple looked at each other and shrugged, both clueless as to what this intrusion was about. At last, Purple waved the guards off. One mere Drone was no threat to the Tallest. "What are you doing here?" Red asked, squinting at the Drone. 

Rising to his feet, the Drone saluted smartly, heels clicking together as he brought a gloved hand up to his brow. Magenta eyes peered out over the high collar of his oil-blotched uniform. "Sirs! Drone Tric, Mech Unit Mechanic, reporting!" 

Moving like a well-oiled machine, Red dropped into a low crouch, eye level with the mechanic, and bared his teeth in a dangerous smile. No Drone would dare disturb the sanctity of the Tallests' quarters without good reason, and Red had a suspicion as to what that reason might be. "You know how to stop the mech?" 

The Irken Drone averted his gaze and backed away, tripping over his feet and crashing to the floor. "Yes! No... That is... Maybe," the flustered Drone stammered. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he managed to squeak out a full sentence. "I have an idea that might work, my Tallest!" 

Red grimaced, starting to think that the mechanics drew straws to see who would come and this little guy lost. Laying his antennae back slightly to appear less threatening, Red reached out as though he were going to stroke Tric's cheek, but never quite made contact. Now was the time to be encouraging, not intimate, after all. "Go on, go on," Red purred. 

Tric flinched away from the hand instinctively, knowing that such closeness was both a great honor and a great danger. Should he displease his Tallest, he doubted he'd leave the room alive. He took some small measure of confidence from the fact that Red had not yet ripped out his throat. "The maintenance hatches in the mech's heels!" Trick blurted, wishing only to leave. "They use the Solarius B-53 opening mechanism." 

Puffing his chest out proudly at having delivered his message, Tric looked up at both of his Tallest knowing they would understand the importance of his words. He was greeted with a pair of blank, uncomprehending stares. With a long-suffering sigh, Tric began explaining in layman's terms. "My Tallest, the Solarius B-53 opening mechanism freezes up when it's supposed to open the maintenance hatches. We've put in requisitions to get better systems, but does anyone ever listen to the mechanics? Of course not!" 

Red cleared his throat in a wordless warning for Tric to get to the point. "My Tallest, because we, that is mechanics like myself, are still stuck with the B-53's, we've had to come up with an alternative way to get the hatches open. If someone can get close enough to run a strong electrical current through the hatch, the B-53 will reset itself and open up automatically. Then that someone can get inside the mech's leg and shut off the motor systems, effectively stopping the mech. That is, it should work... in theory." 

Straightening up, Red ran a finger up and down his cheek in deep thought. So all they needed to do was get someone into the mech through the maintenance hatches, eh? The Drone stood still, waiting. "Anything more to report?" Red asked. Tric's head shook in a silent negative. Red paused in his cheek rub to wave a hand at the Drone. "Dismissed, then." Tric saluted and all but dashed out of the Tallests' presence. 

Red crossed the room to the window, his footsteps silent in the plush carpet. He could feel Purple's eyes on him. Too long had Red been stifled by tradition. Now he had a chance to break free, if only for just a short time. "I could do it, Purple," he murmured, his breath stirring up a slight fog against the windowpane. Cloth rustled as Purple made his way to Red. _'Even his robes sound agitated,'_ Red noted to himself wryly. 

Purple's thin fingers closed around Red's arm. From any other Irken, Red would have taken such a gesture as an attack. Purple was an entirely different matter, though. Growling low and soft to warn Purple that just this once his touch was not appreciated, Red turned to face his partner. Purple tried to put up a bold front, but at the sight of the grim look on Red's face, his antennae fell back. "You can't go out there, Red!" 

"I can't!?" Red shrieked, flinging his arms in the air and breaking loose from Purple's hold. "I can't!? And just who are you to tell me what I can't do? When did you suddenly become my superior?" Red's fingers jabbed out in sharp angry strokes, thumping against Purple's chest plate with a dull clang. 

Faced with Red's outrage, Purple took an involuntary step back. "Our people," he blurted. "We have a responsibility to-" 

"Don't bring that up!" Red roared. "You know very well that you do everything around here! You were made for this kind of life. All I ever do is smile for the cameras and warm up the crowds! And I hate every minute of it!" Purple opened his mouth to attempt once again to reason with his partner, but Red never gave him the chance. "You may have stopped being Ptor when you became Tallest, Purple, but I can't bring myself to commit that kind of suicide. Let me be Dak again one more time!" 

A lump rose in Purple's throat, choking off his words. Outside, people were dying and all he could think about was how alone he'd be if he lost Red. The two could have stood in a frozen tableau until all of Irk was rent apart, but Red shoved past Purple, heading for their sleeping quarters. 

Left with little other choice, Purple followed. He watched in silence as Red shed the traditional garments of the Tallest, changing into a robe slit all the way up the hips for greater mobility. Leaning against the doorframe, Purple drank in the sight of Red's slim form. Though almost avian in its apparent delicacy, the Irken body held a wiry strength and tenaciousness few other species could boast. Purple only hoped that would be enough. "Promise you'll come back to me, Dak," he whispered. 

Red looked up at Purple as he removed his cumbersome gauntlets in favor of elbow-length gloves. "Of course I will." 

*~*~*~*~* 

Red slid among the rubble-dotted landscape, teetering haltingly at first, but steadying as he became reacquainted with his backpod's leg extensions. For too long he'd been dependent entirely on his levitation belts, a mistake he resolved not to make again. 

Lifting his face to the sky, Red scented the air, sampling the taste of dust, ash, and the searing heat of fire - the taste of destruction. His pulse thudded in his throat, pounding like the breath of a cornered beast about to make its last stand. The ground rumbled menacingly beneath Red, and he smiled. The blood of Irk's past flowed through him. He was a hunter and his prey was close. 

Ducking into an empty doorway, Red eased off his levitation belts, which he'd carried slung around his shoulder. If he could have used his backpod's Reactivation command from a distance, he would have made it his weapon of choice. Alas, the Reactivation command only worked when a cessation in the Irken's life functions was detected, and Red didn't have the time to rig up a bypass for such a complex bit of machinery. The levitation belts, however... 

With a quick mental command, one of the backpod legs was converted into a laser. Red swung it around and started cutting a hole into the hull of the belts. Soon the belts' powerpacks lay exposed. Red worked as quickly as he could, sliding his lithe fingers among the wire and circuitry innards of the belts until at last, even through the vinyl-like gloves, he could feel the belts giving off a tingle of electricity. 

The time had come to take the offensive. Using his leg extensions to propel him, Red leapt out of the doorway, retracting the metal cylinders in mid-air and landing in a crouch. Several building-lengths away, the mech unit was firing away with its destructive laser cannon. An ominous rumble sounded, and Red rolled to the side as the doorway he'd been standing in only moments before was now obscured by debris. "Such destructive talent," Red murmured to himself in admiration of the young Invader. 

Keeping low, Red closed the distance between himself and the mech, scanning the legs for the maintenance hatch. There! The circular outline was almost invisible against the metal, but it was there! Reaching the hatch would have been a difficult task for any of the shorter Irkens, but Red realized he could probably succeed fairly easily - provided that he could avoid being crushed by the mech. 

The complex dance began. Red sent out his leg extensions again, and twined around the mech's feet, wishing it would stand still. Every time he thought that he could reach the hatch, the mech took a step and Red had to scramble to get into position to try again. After what felt to Red like an eternity, though in actuality was only a few minutes, the mech paused to unleash another volley of fire from its laser cannon. Red shot upwards, balancing on three of his mechanical spider-like legs. The fourth he used to turn up the power output on the belts just as he slammed them against the hatch. He swore a vile Irken oath and dropped the belts as he felt his gloves melting and burning his hands. 

The brief shot of power proved to be enough as, with a mechanical whirring, the hatch slid open. The mech began moving again, and taking a desperate lunge, Red hooked his leg extensions on the bottom of the hatch. His body slammed against the giant metallic leg, and Red nearly fell to the ground. Red sent two of his leg extensions upwards, hooking against the top of the hatch. Once securely braced, he hoisted himself up into the mech. 

*~*~*~*~* 

"What's happening? Why have we stopped? Tell me! Tell me!" Zim shrieked angrily, his tone brimming with unspoken accusations. He leapt out of the commander's seat, wobbling unsteadily. Instinctively, Zim's leg extensions thrust out of the backpod to prop him up until he could balance properly, before retracting again. Then, using the control panel in front of him as a springboard, Zim dropped down, landing roughly on his butt in front of a hapless Drone. Zim glared around to find the Drone responsible for his sudden descent. "Who was responsible for that?" he demanded at the top of his voice. 

Since the beginning of the mission, the Drones had been far too slow about responding to his orders, and Zim just knew that one of them had done something both to make the mech stop moving and to trip him up so that he looked like a fool in front of his troops. For their insolence, they would pay! The Drones exchanged glances, none wanting to draw Zim's attention to themselves. Zim waited, lifting up onto his leg extensions like a predatory spider. Someone had to answer and soon, because they'd been asked a direct question by their commander. At last, the green-eyed fellow at the laser controls spoke up, dropping his antennae overly low in an attempt to curry some small bit of favor. "We don't know, Sir!" 

Zim's countenance twisted into a monstrosity of anger. "Don't know!? Don't know! You lie! Lie!" In his drink-sodden mind, the mission once again asserted itself as a priority. His fingers curled in anticipation, twitching at the thought of mass destruction. "Now get us moving again! I want this planet conquered by sunrise!" 

"But-!" the Drone started to protest, only to be cut off by Zim. 

"Silence! You are not here to ask questions! Now, obey me! Obey me before you make things worse!" As ordered, the Drones began trying to get the mech mobile again, each and every one wishing that Zim would only listen. They'd all given up on that hope, though. Zim laughed wildly as the mech started forward again, but his laughter turned to a shriek as the forward motion became downward. 

Zim's leg extensions skittered and slid on the metal, having nothing to take purchase on. He fell to the floor of the Drone's control area, bumping his head on one of the control panels. None of the Drones took any notice of their commander's sudden silence as they hastily worked to correct the mech's overbalance. Realizing that they were too late to prevent the mech from going down, the Drones immediately went into the Emergency Crash Procedure, activating forcefield generators. As soon as the control areas were encased in their protective bubbles, the Drones hunkered down on the floor. Zim's unwilling bubble-mate grimaced at the strong smell of alcohol rising from his unconscious commander. _'Hopefully I'll be out of this nightmare soon,'_ the Drone thought to himself. 

The mech hit the ground with much jarring to its small occupants. As soon as the world settled, the Drones stood and shut off the forcefield generators. Without even giving their sleeping commander a second thought, they exited the mech in a neat and orderly fashion, all with plans of petitioning for a transfer. 

Curls of smoke blew in through the cockpit. Zim began hacking and coughing as he breathed in the first tendrils to reach him. Eyes gumming up and head throbbing, he started to sit, only to stop as his stomach churned in protest. With another jagged breath, Zim again attempted to rise, making use of his leg extensions this time even though the swaying in the air sent him into a spasm of dry heaves. He tried to concentrate on the exit, which swam double before his eyes. 

Step after wobbly step, Zim made his way out of the mech, collapsing to the ground and taking long breaths. The outside air, though hot and thick, tasted sweet after the smoky cabin of the mech. Blinking quickly in an attempt to clear his vision, Zim stared at the destruction he'd caused. Oh how pleased the Tallest would be, for surely the planet's defenses had been weakened enough to make it vulnerable to the Armada. Zim could just imagine the Irken symbol stamped all over this planet, kind of like the one on the building right in front of him. 

The building right in front of.... Zim gasped, icy waves of shock cutting through the fuzzy pain of his hangover. This was not Planet Monarchia, home of the Carnivorous Butterfly People! Zim shook his head, trying to clear away this horrible nightmare vision. But still Irk burned before his eyes. He had to stop this! 

Because Irk was a planet heavily dependent on computerized systems, electrical fires cropped up often enough to be a minor nuisance. Fire Extinguishing Devices, known as FEDs, were found all throughout Irk. Surely one was close by. Aha! Zim's gaze settled on a hose and nozzle attachment. If he'd happened to glance up, Zim might have seen the Voot Cruiser Refueling Station sign. He never turned his gaze in that direction, though, as he rushed as quickly as his stomach would allow, to grab the hose. 

Flames leapt and danced, crackling their song of destruction. One thought alone controlled Zim as he aimed the nozzle at the fires. He had to put the fires out! Pulling the release valve, Zim sent a stream of clear liquid into the fires. The fires rose, becoming stronger instead of quailing before the liquidy onslaught. A tongue of flame lapped at the fuel, trailing along the stream straight for Zim! Zim stared, unable to get over the inconceivable wrongness of the sight. Only when his sense of self-preservation kicked in did he toss the hose aside. Zim dove for the downed mech, using it for cover. 

In a single moment, Zim's world came crashing down around his antennae. The sky boiled orange with flame, and only the fact that the mech was built to handle the heat of a sun saved the tiny Invader. The air burned so hot that it burned Zim's skin, raising pale blisters. The pain drove Zim to the edge of consciousness, where he teetered, slipping down into blackness as a dark form rose over him. 

*~*~*~*~* 

Purple leaned against the window, staring down below at the Irken capital. Somewhere out there, he knew, Red was risking his life. Even though all Purple could see was the metallic back of the mech as it rampaged, he never took his eyes off the scene. When the mech fell, Purple wanted to cheer for Red's success, but all he did was hug his arms to his chest. When Red returned, then they could celebrate. 

Then came the explosion. Never before had Purple seen a fireball so gigantic! "Dak!" Purple screamed, pressing against the window. Surely nothing could have survived, and Red was out there... Those two thoughts played themselves through Purple's head, settling into a loop. He refused to let that mental train play out to its final, grim conclusion. _'Duty first,'_ Purple told himself. _'Our people must come before personal welfare.'_ Emotions don't snuff out like a candle, though, and even as Purple flipped on a vid-screen to issue orders, his gaze still strayed to the window. 

"Sir!" A young commander snapped to attention, drawing Purple out of his revery. 

Purple wasted no more time as he began issuing orders. "Get those damned fires out! Then send in construction crews to assess the damage and start rebuilding! I want one doctor and any staff he feels necessary with every crew to treat survivors! Stable buildings are to have first priority as hospitals, and second priority as domiciles. All Irkens to be involved in the rebuilding are to set up camps in areas deemed safe. Is that understood?" 

"Sir! Yes, Sir!" The commander saluted, only to be faced with a blank screen as Purple ended the communication. 

Now Purple could let himself feel. He set the vid-screen to block all calls, and then set the locks on the doors. He would not be disturbed. His earlier thoughts played out to their grim conclusion. _'Nothing could have survived that blast. And Red was out there. And now Red has fought his final battle.'_ Purple collapsed to the floor, huddling into a ball. Thick, sticky tears rolled down his cheeks as he began a high keening wail. 

When the first rays of morning slid through the window, they found Purple still on the floor. His shoulders still shook with sobs, but he'd cried out the last of the tears an hour earlier. Every movement sent a stab of pain through stiff muscles. Purple relished each physical discomfort, though, for they each momentarily drew his mind from his loss. 

Locks clicked softly, and Purple's head jerked up, unable to believe the impossibility of the sound. Only one other Irken knew the combination to those locks. A dark spidery-form filled the doorway, swaying wearily. Purple stared, unable to believe his eyes. "Shit! Purple!" Red exclaimed, then turned his attention to someone behind him. "Wait here." 

Red scrambled into the room, the door sliding shut behind him. "Purple," he murmured. "I'm right here, Purple." Purple tried to stand, tried to reach for Red, but every muscle screamed in protest. Noticing Purple's attempts to rise, Red crouched down, offering his partner an arm. As Red helped Purple to his feet, Purple turned on his levitation belts so that Red wouldn't have to deal with his full weight. Red settled Purple on the couch, placing a slim finger against Purple's lips to stifle the million questions he knew Purple was on the verge of asking. Then Red returned to the door. "Ok, bring the stuff in and set it beside Tallest Purple. Then get out!" Red's tone brooked no argument, and the Drone that came scurrying in followed through with Red's commands perfectly. 

Cleansing chalk, antiseptic, various ointments, gauze, a scalpel... Purple raised an eyelid at Red. "What is all this for?" he managed to croak, voice hoarse from his grieving. The cleansing chalk was obvious enough as every inch of Red appeared to be covered in dust. The rest, though.... Red held his hands out in silent answer, and Purple understood. Taking up the scalpel, Purple cut away the remains of Red's gloves, peeling them away from the skin. Red's arms remained whole, untouched; but his hands were covered in burns. Clucking his tongue softly, Purple murmured, "Those are going to scar." 

"That's what I figured," Red sighed, hissing suddenly as Purple began dabbing at his hands with the antiseptic. Through sheer force of will he kept from squirming, silently chiding himself for showing any kind of weakness. What kind of warrior couldn't handle a bit of stinging, after all? As soon as the hands were cleaned, Purple carefully applied some burn ointment, the numbing coolness a welcome relief to Red. 

Red started to reach for the snaps on his armor, but Purple's fingers closed around his wrists. "Don't," Purple commanded. "You'll only break the blisters. Now, hold those hands back out." Red stuck his lower lip out sulkily, but did as he was told, hating being in such a helpless position. Purple took no notice however, as he looped the gauze around Red's hands. As soon as he finished playing doctor, Purple reached out for Red's armor. A small shower of dirt fell to the ground as the chestplate was opened. Purple grabbed the cleansing chalk and begin rubbing it against Red, peeling away layers of grime. "I thought you were dead," Purple whispered as he worked. 

"I thought I was too," Red responded, a contented purr rumbling up from his chest as Purple worked. Silence stretched out between the two Tallest as Purple took the cleansing chalk down the back of Red's head in smooth, circular motions. "When the mech landed," Red continued, sensing that Purple was on the verge of asking him to elaborate, "I couldn't get the hatch to open back up. I was trying to cut a way out with my backpod's lasers when this rumbling started. Then everything started shaking. When I finally got out, there was fire everywhere." 

Purple started working his way down Red's back, smiling as he felt Red arch against his movements. The mottled collection of bruises that was being revealed as Purple cleaned attested to the difficulty of stopping the mech. "And Zim?" Purple asked. 

A soft moan escaped Red as Purple rubbed the cleansing chalk over the sensitive area around the backpod implants. Red's head lolled back as he coasted on a brief wave of pleasure. "Zim...," Red murmured, the question coming back as a mere afterthought. "He seemed to be in pretty rough condition. I dragged him back here and had him teleported to one of the medical ships. He's to be sent to Food Courtia as soon as he recovers. Wasn't that a good idea?" 

_'Indeed,'_ Purple realized. _'It was a very good idea.'_ Putting Zim into a position of such utter servitude would probably mortify the Invader worse than any honorable execution would have. Purple reached again for the scalpel and cut away the lower part of Red's robes. The kilt was in such terrible shape that no amount of cleaning could save it. 

Purple worked in silence, savoring every pleasured grunt and moan of his partner. Down the lower back, over the buttocks, Purple scraped away the dirt of Red's adventure. Once the back was done, Purple swung around to the front. Again he started up and worked his way down. Whenever he reached a spot that Red seemed to particularly enjoy having rubbed, Purple lingered a bit longer. 

As soon as the smooth skin between his legs was cleaned, Red slid down to the ground, exhaustion etching his features. "We'll try again, won't we, Purple? We aren't going to let this little setback stop us, right?" Purple nodded as he finished his cleaning job. Though bruised, battered, and burned, Red was still in far better shape than when he'd first come in. 

Purple lay his head against Red's side, smiling to himself. "It'll be better next time around. We'll spend more time building up the Armada. Just picture it! A fleet of ships stretching out further than the eye can see!" 

Red shut his eyes, curling and uncurling one of Purple's antennae around his finger. "And all the races in the universe will acknowledge us as their leaders," Red murmured sleepily. "And we'll call this new plan, which will succeed, Operation Impending Doom 2, yes?" 

Grinning at Red's attachment to that particular name for a plan of galactic conquest, Purple nodded. "Yes, Red, that's exactly what we'll call it." Exhausted from the long, sleepless night, Irk's two leaders drifted off to a well-earned rest, dreaming of what the future held for themselves and for Irk. 


	2. 2

**Author's Note: **Ok, do I really have to say it? Invader Zim is property of Jhonen Vasquez and his tribe of winged monkeys at Nickelodeon studios. I wasn't really planning on doing a second chapter to this, but the creativity demons would not be ignored. 

**Warning: **This is a **slash** ficcy, specifically Red/Purple. And, seeing as how I've already given this story an **R **rating, expect a wee bit of gratuitous Irken loving going on at some point. Or at least as much loving as two male aliens with no reproductive organs can manage. ^.^;;; 

**Prelude to a Nightmare - Chapter 2**

A soft whimper escaped Zim upon his return to consciousness as his body declared every little ache and pain. He hurt in places that he didn't know he had, or maybe his body had just turned into one large hurt. Zim wasn't exactly sure which, but either seemed valid. The world behind Zim's eyelids was pitch black interspersed with flashes of red. Zim cracked his eyes open, but the harsh light of where ever he was jabbed through his sockets like a dull knife which was succeeded by a wave of nausea. 

Since he couldn't look to see where he was, Zim began concentrating on the feel of his situation. He was stretched out flat on his stomach, cold metal pressing up against him. No restraints, Zim was quick to note. "Brain wave analysis indicates the patient is awake." The voice was cold and clinical, seeming to come from all around Zim at once, a feminine monotone that no living creature could emulate. 

"Thank you, MAU." This new voice was weary, coming from a living throat and not a machine. Zim paused in his analysis, focusing in on the name MAU - Medical Assistance Unit. He was with a doctor! But how? The last thing Zim remembered before passing out was a dark silhouette appearing over him. "Please detach your backpod, Invader," the doctor said, sounding as though he spoke those words a hundred times every day. 

Still unsure of his situation, Zim hesitated. If he gave up his backpod, he would be left weaponless! "Invader," the doctor repeated, adding a note of unspoken reprimand. "Detach your backpod so that I may complete your examination. I am under orders from Tallest Red to get you mobile as quickly as possible." Under orders from the Tallest? Well, that was a completely different matter then! Zim concentrated, sending the command down along his spine that would remove the backpod. 

Wiring slid up into the pod with a soft slurping sound, and then the backpod floated free. As soon as the backpod was clear from Zim's access ports, a new device slid into his spinal connections. "Beginning damage assessment," MAU intoned. "Analyzing." 

Zim moaned as the exam commenced, imagining little feelers from MAU's probes tickling his organs. How had he gotten to a doctor anyway? The last thing he remembered was fire, and diving for cover, and a towering shadow. And Irk destroyed! Zim pushed himself up, forcing his eyes open. "Irk?" Zim gasped. "What happened to Irk? How did I get here? I must know!" 

"Lie back down, Invader," the doctor ordered, frowning at his patient's conduct. Zim made no move to comply and with a sigh, the doctor began talking. "Preliminary estimates indicate that you managed to destroy half the planet. You might have destroyed the entire planet if Tallest Red hadn't stopped your mech. Then the Tallest brought you here and said that once you're all patched up, you are to be sent to Food Courtia." 

Food Courtia? A proud Invader being sent to spend his life frying things? Zim shuddered at the thought. Impossible! Surely the doctor had heard wrong! Anything but Food Courtia! Zim leapt off of the examining table, ripping MAU's probes loose, and grabbed his backpod. "Damage assessment interrupted," was the automaton's reply. 

Pushing past the stunned doctor, Zim dashed out of the examining room. As the doors slid shut behind him, the doctor merely shook his head. "I guess that means he's well enough for the trip to Food Courtia. We probably should try to stop him, but let's not, MAU. Where could he go, anyway?" 

*~*~*~*~* 

Tallest Red groaned as a loud pounding jarred him from his sleep. Who could possibly be at the door at this hour? Wan sunlight filtered in through the window and Red grimaced, remembering that it had been early morning when he and Purple were at last able to catch a bit of sleep. Even with the knocking, Purple continued to sleep, his head buried against Red's side. "Purple," Red murmured, giving his partner a shake. "Purple, go answer the door. Tell whoever it is to go away." 

"Nnngh," Purple grumbled sleepily. When Purple made no move to rise, Red slid out from under him. Red took a moment to examine the patch-up job Purple had done on his hands. The blisters didn't seem quite as large, but they were still puffed out - the dead skin a glaring white against the healthy green. 

Still the knocking persisted. Red considered answering the door in all his nude glory. Whoever was out there had it coming! Only the thought of a scolding from Purple made Red drop the idea. "Hold on, hold on!" Red called out, rushing to his sleeping quarters and grabbing a robe. Because his hands didn't want to work right, Red couldn't tie the robe shut, so he held it closed instead. Hastily garbed, he went and opened the door. No one. 

"Excuse me, my Tallest." Red's gaze dropped down at the voice. A tiny Invader stared up at Red, gazing in awe at his leader. 

The voice Red didn't know, but the Invader it belonged to, he did. "Shit!" Red growled, realizing that this was the Invader who only a few hours before had destroyed half of Irk. "Aren't you supposed to be on the way to Food Courtia?" 

Zim's antennae, already low out of proper deference to his leader, fell back even further at this recognition. Zim had been rehearsing a speech as to why he shouldn't be banished, but at the sight of Red's narrowing eyes, he quailed. "My Tallest, surely one little mistake doesn't warrant such a harsh punishment!" Realizing he'd spoken too bluntly, Zim clapped his hands over his mouth, eyes wide with horror. 

Red's left eye twitched in annoyance. Little mistake? Destroying half the planet and ruining Operation Impending Doom constituted a _little mistake_? If he'd not gotten more than enough excitement stopping Zim's rampaging mech, Red would have snatched Zim up and hurled him out the window. Fortunately for the diminutive Invader, Red was too tired to deal with him. "You are going to Food Courtia, and that is final," Red said, forcing his voice soft. Then he gently, but firmly, shut the door in Zim's face. 

Red crossed the room, returning to Purple's side. He sank down onto the thick carpet beside his partner. "I take it that was Zim," Purple yawned, running his fingers up and down the silken hem of Red's robe. Red's head nodded in a silent affirmative, an angry growl rumbling through his chest. "The little fellow deserves some credit," Purple continued. "He's got guts." 

"Either that or a death wish," Red muttered darkly. "You should have gotten up to handle that, Purple." 

"And miss out on the chance for such an excellent view of your ass?" Purple's warm breath tickled Red's chest as he laughed. "Perish the thought!" Raising himself up, Purple placed his mouth against Red's neck, nuzzling the yielding skin. He was rewarded by a pleasured moan from Red. Purple could feel beneath his lips the fragile bones and thudding pulse of his partner. With a quick snap, Irk would only have one Tallest. But the old hostilities had long since been set aside. 

Fingers scrabbled at Purple's armor and he drew back, wagging a finger at Red. "Take it easy on those hands, Red. I've told you once that once already. You don't want to break the blisters." Red merely smiled, a familiar hunger rising in his eyes. Purple rose, letting Red's gaze drink in his height. First disconnecting his backpod, and then unfastening his armor, Purple worked slowly, savoring the anticipation. 

The chest plate cracked open, revealing an unmarked torso which spoke more of a scholar's life than a fighter's. As Purple slid out of his armor, he dangled it in front of him, lowering it slowly. "Stop being such a tease!" Red ordered, grinning from antenna to antenna as he watched Purple's little strip show. 

Purple shook his head, a smile playing about his lips. "Not a chance, Red! You always want it fast and now. But this time I'm in charge, and I want to relish every moment." Red's lip poked out in a childish pout, but he didn't protest. The chest plate was eased to the floor, and Purple swept back a couple of steps, his hips swaying gently. Since it was expected, Red watched, though the display did nothing for him. When Purple noticed Red's lack of reaction, his shoulders slumped. "I'm making a fool of myself, aren't I? It's just that I've read that with some species the anticipation makes it better...." 

"We're Irkens. We're not like other species. The touch is what's important, not the display," Red murmured, motioning for Purple to join him. Purple did as he was bade and crouched down next to Red. Fingers brushed against Purple's cheek, and he shut his eyes, leaning into the stroke. "But we can take it slow this time if that's what you want, Ptor." 

Just as Purple started to correct Red, he stopped. They were alone, so what did it matter what Red called him? Instead of killing the moment with words, Purple nestled against Red and started to caress his partner's back. His fingers went straight to two small bumps, the access ports for Red's backpod. Round and round Purple's fingers went in weaving circles, stroking the skin around the ports - light, fluttering touches, like the kiss of a butterfly. 

Drawing his hand away, Purple pressed Red down against the floor, the thick carpet pillowing Red's body. Red immediately curled his fingers through the carpet. Without giving it a second thought, Purple turned Red's hands over, gripping the smooth wrists. 

Though pinned beneath Purple, Red still tried to take the offensive, like the warrior he was. He rose as much as Purple would allow, mouth tracing a slow line against Purple's face. Purple's head bowed low even as his body arched in delight. When Red reached Purple's antennae, he took one of the dark stalks in his mouth delicately, as though sampling a fine wine. A fiery wave of pleasure coursed through Purple and he ground his hips against Red, an act born out of instinct and not from any immediate need. 

The antenna in Red's mouth lost its wiry stiffness, becoming limp and malleable as he rolled it around his tongue. "Oh... Oooooh!" Purple moaned, losing himself in the touch. He released Red's wrists and began kneading his partner's chest, his lips again working at Red's neck, savoring the cinnamon taste of his skin. 

Fresh from a crisis, the two leaders clung to each other with a desperation they'd never before known. Their pent-up fear, they found, needed to go somewhere. Purple pressed into Red as if they would become one creature. He still couldn't believe that Red had returned to him, and his fingers dug into Red's skin almost of their own volition, testing Red's reality. The darker green sheen of blood welled up in tiny droplets from the scratches Purple was leaving behind. 

The pleasure and warmth growing inside Purple became so intense that he didn't think his body could contain them any longer. He almost felt as though he were going to burst into flames right on top of Red. Ah! But what a burning that would be - to drown in the fires of touch! 

Just when it seemed as though Purple could take no more, the good feeling receded. Lost in the carnal need for more, Purple's lips parted in a silent snarl. Then he noticed Red beneath him, gasping and smiling... And exhausted. Red had given as much as he could, and had been pushed further by Purple's ministrations than he'd thought possible. Purple stared, not knowing what had come over him. His fingers traced the scratches on Red's chest guiltily. _'I should have let Red rest and recover, and not given in to my appetites.' _Purple sighed at the thought. 

Red reached up, curling his fingers around the back of Purple's head, and drawing the lavender gaze down to meet his. "S'nice," he breathed. "S'nice. Didn't know you had it in you, Ptor. Have to go out and almost get myself killed more often if I'm going to have something like that waiting on me when I get back." 

Purple laughed and rested his head against Red. "Don't even think of it, Dak," he murmured. 

*~*~*~*~* 

Tall Siy, rested back in her ship's command center, her white coat standing out in the dim, diffuse light. Double fingers tapped out an intricate, impatient rhythm on her chair's arm as she waited, legs covered in thigh high boots crossing and uncrossing every few minutes. Suddenly the vid-screen in front of her blipped to life, and she smiled. "Ah, Murg! I was wondering how much longer you would keep me waiting. What do you have to report?" 

"My Tall One," the green-eyed soldier murmured, dropping his antennae back deferentially, "the mission has failed. Zim's mech unit did not destroy the palace. There were rumors of Tallest Red's demise, but my spies have confirmed that these are false. Both of the Tallest live yet." Murg spat out the word "both" as though it were a vile curse. 

"Damn," Siy muttered, sighing wearily as she rubbed her eyes. "Those two have the luck of the Monkey. At least with half of Irk destroyed through their plans, the other Talls should offer more support to the Traditionalists." Murg's head drooped, shoulders slumping in a picture of absolute despair. Siy frowned, her lavender eyes darkening to an angry black. "What aren't you telling me, Murg?" 

Reluctantly, Murg met Siy's gaze. "The people may very well support the Tallest more than ever. It is being said that Tallest Red himself stopped the mech, and many lives were spared through Tallest Red and Tallest Purple's quick thinking, my Tall One." 

Siy's fist slammed down on the arm of her chair. She rose and began pacing the confines of the bridge, her cloak swishing about her thin frame. Curse after vile curse spewed from her mouth. Siy knew she could have manipulated one Tallest or the other alone, but together they were too close - too dependent on each other. Her avenues of control were limited. Her plan to eliminate one or both of the Tallest had been so simple, and had the approval of the Traditionalists, who saw having two leaders as an abomination. How could she have failed so miserably? 

Slipping cormorant weed juice into that tiny Invader's drink had been child's play. All Siy had done was pretend to congratulate Zim, pouring a single drop into his Kahlua while he wasn't looking. Then, with a few simple hints from Siy, Zim had gone off on his little rampage, pushed over edge by the insidious combination of drug and drink. 

Siy had been so certain that the Palace of the Tallest would be brought down, taking Red and Purple with it. Once they were gone, she would have brought out Zheb, to be the next Tallest. Siy paused, smiling as she thought of Zheb. His brain power stopped just short of drooling moron, and he was a soldier to the core. But also, Zheb was, according to Siy's figurings, surpassed in height only by Irk's double rulers. Best of all, Siy had complete control over Zheb. He would dive into a sun if she desired it. Once Zheb was Almighty Tallest, Siy would no longer need to work through the Traditionalists. She would control all of Irk, using Zheb as her puppet mouthpiece. 

Another screen flickered on and Siy turned her attention to it. Red and Purple, both definitely alive, smiled out at their unseen audience. "People of Irk," Red began, his eyes glittering as he oozed charm for the cameras. "The worst of the crisis is over, and the Invader responsible has been dealt with! Now, we must all join together in a Great Rebuilding!" From the way Red flung his arms out, Siy figured he was imagining cheers. 

Tallest Purple stepped forward, Red falling back behind him automatically. "Now for the details," Siy muttered. Sure enough, Purple began outlining the basic plan for the rebuilding. Siy yawned and turned her attention back to Murg. "Predictable, aren't they? Ever speech is the same. Tallest Red keeps the crowd hooked and Tallest Purple does the actual speech." 

Murg bobbed his head quickly, hoping to be dismissed soon. "Murg..." Siy's lips curled in a dangerous smile. "The Tallest will undoubtedly make inspections while this 'Great Rebuilding' is going on, and construction sites are dangerous... Arrange for some accidents whenever they go out." 

Murg raised his hand to his head in a sharp salute. "Yes, my Tall One!" 

With a negligent wave, Siy said, "And they'll probably try for galactic conquest again to make up for this failure. Find out what they've done with Zim and see to it that he shows up when they have another Assigning. He might prove useful again. That will be all." The screen went blank, and she turned her attention back to the speech in time to hear Red describing his battle with the mech. Siy's eyes narrowed and she hissed under her breath. Patience... She must have patience. The Tallests' luck couldn't hold forever. Could it? 


End file.
